


The Heart Wants...

by omgmybffmegatron



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, Multi, Rating: NC17, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 02:31:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omgmybffmegatron/pseuds/omgmybffmegatron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Discontinued</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hesitation

**Author's Note:**

> Perceptor/Drift/Wing  
> NSFW (eventually), Sticky, Threesome, DP (maybe)
> 
> I’m really self-conscious about writing Wing, and this is my first time ever writing my OT3. Be gentle.
> 
> (It probably makes no sense.)
> 
> Okay, I’ll shut up now.

“You two are  _fighting_  again.”

Wing glanced over his shoulder, seeing Perceptor standing there in the doorway.  “When are we not?” he replied.  “We are constantly at each other’s throats.”

“Do you regret saving his life?”

The Knight finally turned to face his guest.  “No.”  There was a pause as Wing stood his ground under Perceptor’s cold stare.  “Not only did I save him, I saved you, as well.  For years, I have waited for a companion… Now, I have two.”

“You do not need me as a companion, Wing.”

“Oh, but I do.  You are just as much my responsibility as  _he_  is.”  He approached the scientist, golden optics searching blue.  “In the short time I have hosted you and your partner; I have grown fond of your company.”  And before he could act on his desires, Wing moved away and continued: “You are not used to compliments, are you, Perceptor?  Drift mentioned your past,” he said, turning back to the window.  “From what he’s told me, you were quite the loner.”

“I am not a very social person.”

“Why is that?”

Perceptor shifted uncomfortably.  “I… I have no need for friends.”

“And, yet, you are with Drift.”

“Drift is different.”

“He is, isn’t he?  I see a lot of potential in him.  And you.”

Perceptor took a few steps closer, making it easier for him to see through the window overlooking the arena.  “I do not wish to make him choose…”

Wing had been waiting for their conversation to turn toward this particular topic since Perceptor’s arrival.  “I am aware of your involvement with Drift before he left Theophany; it was more than just a mere student/mentor relationship…  Wasn’t it?”

The Knight shuttered his optics and vented heavily, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.  “I had made… advances,” he started, turning his head to look at Perceptor.  “We interfaced once or twice, but it never went beyond that.  I believe, at the time, he was incapable of understanding love or affection; it was spontaneous.”

“Spontaneous.”

“Yes.”  There was a faint smile appearing on Wing’s lips.  “Until he met you.”

Perceptor gave the jet a thoughtful look, seemingly confused by his implication.  This, of course, prompted Wing to elaborate:  “I believe you to be a very kindhearted mech, Perceptor, and I cannot  _imagine_  how it felt to lie there— _dying_ —as your comrades fled.  You are  _lonely_  and in desperate need of someone to understand you, to be there and to listen to your troubles.  I believe you have that in Drift.”

“You speak as if you  _know_  me.”

“I have  _been_  there, Perceptor.”

“What is your story, then?”

“My story… I was an architect on Cybertron.  It was a demanding job, especially when the uprising began.  Mechs were destroying buildings left and right—it was terrible.  It got to the point where people were just too afraid to rebuild; a few of us were even threatened, so we lost money, friends…  Axe and I were fed up, so we joined Dai Atlas.”

“And Axe is—“

“My father…  My carrier passed away a few years before we left Cybertron.  He utilized his skills to create our weapons; it was more of a distraction, than anything.”

“So, he is the swordsmith.”

“Yes.”

Wing turned back to look at the arena.  “That is my story.”

Perceptor fought with himself for a moment before stepping closer, appearing hesitant as he lifted a hand to rest upon the Knight’s arm.  “I am willing to make this work,” he murmured close to Wing’s audial.

“We are alive for a reason,” the jet replied, staring at their soft reflection in the window.

“Drift could be that reason.”

“You humor me…”

Perceptor allowed his lips to brush the smooth metal along the side of Wing’s elaborate helm, provoking a shiver to flow through his flight panels.  “You feel obligated,” the Knight added, glancing over his shoulder.

“Will you continue to inform me of how I am feeling, or am I allowed to feel for myself?”

“You are your own person, Perceptor.”

The sniper brought his hand to the folded wings, curious fingers stroking the sensitive hinges.  This caused Wing to gasp in surprise; he turned to face Perceptor, golden optics alight with growing excitement.  “Tell me you are doing this for yourself and not for Drift.  Give me the reassurance that you are not…  _doing_  this out of obligation to him.”

“We cannot make him choose.  It would be  _cruel_.”

“But you—you  _want_  this, too.  Don’t you?”

“…”

“Until you figure that out, Perceptor, this will not happen.”

Perceptor stood in silence as Wing moved towards the exit, leaving him to ponder his words.  Drift would be ending his session soon.  Perhaps, he would wait in their shared quarters for his return; he needed to have a little talk with his savior, anyway.


	2. Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perceptor's talk with Drift ends up better than he had anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perceptor/Drift  
> NSFW, Sticky

Perceptor waited anxiously on the berth, fingers lightly rapping on his thigh as he kept checking the door, expecting to hear the lock disengage at any moment.  And when it did, the sniper stood to greet the mech as he entered…

“Drift.”

The swordsman looked up.  “Perceptor, you were waiting on me?”

“I was.”

Drift flashed a charming smirk and locked the door behind him.  “How was your training session?” Perceptor asked.  “It was… _enlightening_ ,” the white mech answered as he placed his swords on the desk.  “Axe was letting me try different weapons.  I still prefer my swords, though.  Hey, you all right?”

“I… I wanted to talk to you about Wing.”

Drift’s smile faded.  “Yeah?  What about him?”

“We want you to be happy, and we are both willing to do what it takes.”

“Oh…”

Perceptor watched as Drift took a seat on the berth, seemingly troubled by the topic.  “Will you have us both, or will you choose?  Just say the word, Drift, and I will contact Springer to arrange an immediate pickup.”

At those words, Drift reached for the sniper’s hand.  “No, you’re not going anywhere.”  There was a certain firmness to his tone that kept Perceptor from pulling away.  “Look… Wing and I—we fooled around, we _confided_ in one another.  Then I found you.”  He offered a hesitant smile.  “Whenever I think of you, I remember your curiosity; I remember seeing you lying there while the others left, and how I waited for you to recover.  I wanted so much to shelter you from the world.  I felt that, because you were left behind, you were mine to rescue, you were mine to keep, to protect from that point on.”

“Your responsibility.”

“My everything.”

Perceptor was silent for a moment.  “I do not know what to do,” he admitted in a small voice before he was gently tugged down to the berth.  Drift brought his other hand to the sniper’s cheek:  “Stay.  I care for you and Wing, both.  There is room for you two in my spark.”  He smiled, stroking the soft metal beneath Perceptor’s reticle.  “Neither of you will ever have to feel alone; you will never be left out of anything.”

The sniper turned his head away, his mind working to process the information.  “He is… beautiful,” he mumbled.

“As are you… Wing even said so, himself.”

“You are just saying that.”

“ _Perceptor._ ”  Drift pulled the mech’s gaze back to his.  At that moment, whatever he was going to say was forgotten; he acted on instinct and leaned forward to give a somewhat hesitant kiss, pulling away for only a second before repeating the action with more fervor.

Perceptor was taken by surprise, though he gradually submitted and shifted to guide Drift onto his back.  “You are a different kind of beautiful,” he murmured, sliding his hand across the sniper’s chest plate.

“Why do you lie to me, Drift?”

“I’m not lying.”

Drift moved his legs further apart and slid his hand to Perceptor’s interface plating, emitting a pleasing sound when the sniper leaned into the touch.  “If I didn’t care for you, I wouldn’t be here… _under_ you.”  He retracted his own plating, valve cover spiraling open.  “Will you let me care for you, Perceptor?  Will you let _Wing_ care for you?”

Perceptor brought his hand to Drift’s cheek.  “You are serious,” he whispered.

“Very.”

The scientist drew his fingertips along the mech’s jaw and swallowed as he watched his lips part to take in the curious digits.  “You… want me…?”  Drift hummed in affirmation around the dark appendages as he stroked each servo with the tip of his glossa.  To further emphasize his desire, the swordsman lifted his hips, feeling his valve twitch.

Perceptor finally retracted his plating, his spike pressurizing into Drift’s hand.  He withdrew his fingers—much to his partner’s dismay—and brought them to the mech’s valve, letting the sensitive tips trace the slick, pliable rim, eliciting a pleasurable sigh.

Drift stared at the sniper’s face, feeling a growl rise to the surface as he felt those fingers slip inside—one, then two—slowly thrusting in and out.  He began to squirm beneath him, doing his best to angle his hips.  “Perceptor,” he gasped, “Please…”

His pleas were cut short as Perceptor took his lips in yet another frenzied kiss, their glossas fighting for dominance.  He didn’t have time to register the sniper’s movement as their battle was cut short; his valve once again empty, but only for a very short moment.

“AH!”

The white mech felt his valve stretch painfully to accommodate the spike’s girth.  “You are still _tight_ ,” hissed his lover.  Drift tilted his head back, optic shutters forming slits as Perceptor gripped his waist and continued to thrust into his leaky valve.

“--ceptor…”

His frame jerked every time their arrays met, creating that familiar wet sound that only served to heighten the swordsman’s arousal.  He then reached up to pull the scientist down into a series of short kisses.  “I want you to _claim_ me,” he whispered between them, digging his fingertips into the crimson armor.

Perceptor held himself over Drift as he continued to roughly drive himself into the quivering valve, his optics locked on the mech beneath him, mewling and moaning like a beast in heat.  Primus, Drift was beautiful.  How did he ever catch his eye?  How did he ever win his heart?  These questions were left unanswered as he felt the valve’s inner walls clamp down around his length, bringing him out his stupor.

The sniper growled and leaned forward to bite down on one of the main energon lines in Drift’s neck.  It was unexpected, but not unwelcome as Drift arched from the berth in a silent cry, succumbing to his overload.

Perceptor wasn’t too far behind.

He released Drift’s neck with a groan as his pace increased; his spike flared inside of his partner, allowing the prominent ridges to stimulate the sensor nodes just right, provoking a second overload from the swordsman.

“ _Drift_ …”

“ _Fuck_ , Percy!”

Drift clawed off more paint from Perceptor’s shoulders as he felt the sniper release his transfluid with a possessive growl.  He whispered his lover’s name between the cycling of his vents and pulled the mech down for a slow, sweet kiss.

Perceptor could feel his spark flutter.  It was… new, _different_.  He carefully withdrew and moved to lie next to the smaller bot, his arm sliding around his waist in such a protective manner.  Drift, of course, noticed and gave the scientist a warm smile.

“Promise, you will give Wing a chance.”

“… I would like to know him better.”

Drift’s smile grew.  “That can be arranged.”


End file.
